Things are not going as well with Zaef. The possibility of climbing over was still tantalizing, though without the easy access points from the alley, the going would be steep.
Zaef gestures to Angel the possibility of going over. Zaef's done stuff like it before in the Arena, and he can help Angel up, if push comes to shove.
Angel nods - this isn't the first city street he's had to boost and climb out of. He waits for an opening, stays low, and hustles to step into Zaef's waiting hands for a boost.
(2d8+1d10 Angel stealth plus cloaked bonus = 3+3+10 vs. 1d6 militia notice = (6) = 6
1d10+1d8 Zaef Might + Bloodwraith for mentioning Arena tactics = 7+1 vs 5)
Angel's heart stops when he sees the militia soldier on the belt-fed turn his way and look right at him - and right through him, as the dark nighttime alley and active camo on his armor do their thing. Zaef's boost shoves him right up onto the lip of the building, where he wraps his arms around a conveniently place - and fortunately not hot - vent pipe, and Zaef climbs up his back before hauling Angel the rest of the way up.
"Lesson learned - stick to the roofs," Angel said. "We're in position."
----
"Easy for you to say," Hale gasps. "We're ready over here."
---
All four elements are in position. Garrett and Ngawai are near the main road leading to the bazaar, the front gate of Wazir's little compound. The defenses here are all about taking advantage of that wide-open road, with sandbag barricades and four machine guns on mounts pointed down the road with six militia manning the checkpoints. It'd be a great defense against attacks from vehicles or a mob - but only if you can see what you're shooting at, which the darkness and active camo make rather difficult.
Luis and Arketta are near seller's entrance. Lots of cover, very tight quarters between stacks of crates and shipping containers trucked in from the Black Sea. The stacks of obstructions and EMP mean good luck spotting how many people are somewhere in there - you both hear a few different conversations, and above it all, one man stands in a guard booth with a flashlight, trying to keep an eye on the stored goods for sale. With all the weapons and high explosives, Luis could do a lot of damage with some of the stuff in here, and Arketta swaps her purloined AK for something much quieter - her Turai sword.
FTE and Hale are near a block of apartment buildings and houses, all fairly run-down looking - but if FTE's optics don't deceive it, there's a whole lot of security cameras pointed outwards from those buildings. Between the cigarette butts and men's clothing hanging out the windows, this must be the housing for most of Wazir's militia. Most of them are likely out on patrol, but there's certain to be several of them left behind to guard this approach, and you're going to have to go right through them.
Zaef and Angel, on the other hand, have the high road approach from the other end of the block. TV aerials and satellite dishes alternate with rooftop gardens, pigeon coops, and laundry lines to make what could be a long line of sight into a broken array of visual lines more like the woods of North Carolina than a flat unbroken plain. Angel's glasses and Zaef's helm show them both that they have good line of sight to where Garrett and Ngawai and FTE and Hale are, but with all the containers and mess where Luis and Arketta are, they're on their own for the moment. But on the other side of the roofs is the goal - a clear sightline over the entire bazaar grounds.
"All right, from here on out, if they're armed, weapons free," Garrett says. "RoE is no survivors. We're going to blow through here -"
"Like the Killing Wind?" Hale asks.
Angel grunts over the vox.
"Exactly," Garrett says. "Let's show them what happens when you fuck with the 815."
Luis grins to Arketta and trades his beamer for his own sword. "All these explosives lying around like this, it's just sloppy. What if something happens? People could get hurt. Want to help me look for some detcord in here someplace, and see about hurting people and making something happen?"
While sniping is much more Angel's cup of tea than his own, Zaef can appreciate being able to support the other teams and pick off some of their tougher targets. Zaef simply decides the teammate to support is Angel, up here on a roof with plenty of concealment, little actual cover, and a big target on his back once he starts shooting.
Zaef looks for likely ways up to the rooftop and ponders how to deal with incoming hostiles. Some ways up he might be able to sabotage, but it'll probably come down to Zaef ambushing new challengers with grenade and blade, and turning his section of the roof into a bloodbath.
Garrett dashes across the street, staying low to maximize the effect of the active camo in the EMP-induced darkness.
(Garrett sneak = 2d8 vs. 1d4: 6+3, 2)
He easily gets into concealed position behind a cluster of old trash cans, braces his AK-47 on top, and takes aim at the sentry manning the machine gun closest to him, while Ngawai quickly leaps over a waist-high front yard wall and takes aim at the gunner on her side of the street.
"Ready," she calls to Garrett.
"Ready," Garrett replies.
"Three, two, one, fire," Ngawai says, and pulls the trigger at the same moment Garrett does.
(Garrett shoot = 1d8 v. 1d4: 5, 1, dead)
(Ngawai shoot = 2d10 v. 1d8: 5+6, 2, dead)
Both shots strike their targets square in the head, dropping both of them instantly. The remaining four sentries all panic, the two gunners further back swinging their guns wildly about trying to find something to shoot at, while the other two just dive for cover.
----
Two near-simultaneous cracks of gunfire a few blocks away send the still-unseen adversaries in the maze of shipping containers and crates shouting in panic - the lights going out was suspicious, but now with gunfire, there's no doubt that they're under attack. The man in the tower gets on his radio, shouting something to someone while swinging his bright floodlight from side to side, trying to find any intruders.
Fortunately for Luis and Arketta, they're both well protected from the light, but still have a ways to go. Pressed against the side of the shipping container/entrance to the bazaar weapons depot maze, Arketta leads the way, sword held low and angled up, ready to plunge deep into the first thing that gets too close.
(Arketta sneak = 1d8 v.1d4: 2, 1)
As they both approach the corner, Arketta pauses, rocks back and forth once, then rounds the corner - and stops inches from the backside of a militia soldier. The man clutches his AK-47, sweating with the adrenaline and the nighttime heat. Arketta doesn't hesitate - and plunges her sword upwards into his back while throwing a gauntlet around his mouth to silence his screams.
(Arketta attack = 1d12+1d8 v. 1d4: 8+3, 3, dead)
The sword goes in the man's back and exits his front, neatly separating his aorta from the rest of his heart in the process. All he manages is one brief scream before the blood streaming down his front and back renders him unable to do much of anything at all. Arketta pulls her sword free as easily as it went in, and drags the body off to one side before roughly cramming it in between two crates. Before she even stands back up, the blood has slid off her armor and soaked into the dirt at her feet.
"Let's move," she whispers.
----
Foot long chisel-shaped blades extend from the forearms of FTE's shell as Hale draws his own sword in one hand, and a Narsai'i pistol in the other. "I don't know what Sheen thing teabag means, but stabbing is pretty straight-forward," Hale says. "Let's go."
(FTE sneak: 1d8 vs. 1d4: 1, 1)
(Hale sneak: 1d10 vs. 1d4: 1, 3)
Moving low across the street, both Hale's carapace and FTE's shell shimmer slightly in the darkness, active camo doing its job well - until the door they're both approaching opens wide, revealing a group of three militia members about to head out on a search party with a few big flashlights. Between the light inside the apartments and the even brighter beams of the flashlights, both Hale and FTE stand out as pitch-black shapes against a lit background for just a moment before their armors catch up, but that's more than enough time for all three men to see you both plain as day.
"'God, it's the aliens!'" one of them says in whatever language they speak here.
Hale, the seasoned soldier, doesn't hesitate - his hand instantly snaps up the Narsai'i pistol and pulls the trigger, drilling the first man in line square in the chest. The shot drops his target to one knee, but doesn't quite put him down for good.
----
(Zaef and Angel to come after resolution of Hale and FTE)
FTE's first target sees it coming, and manages to duck out of the way - but only after blocking the view of the other guy behind him. He didn't have the chance to react, and FTE's other blade plunged clear through his shoulder out the other side.
(Militia shoot: 2d6 vs. 1d4 = 6, 3)
(Militia damage: 2d8 vs. 2d10 = 5, 9, 3 Shock minus d3 = 1, 16/18 Shock)
The sole remaining hostile without bonus holes rolls over and fires a shot straight into FTE's head - which would be a lot more effective if A: FTE had anything more vital up there than sensor packages, and B: the round did more than ricochet off its armor. The impact staggers it enough to pull the blade out of its other target, but nothing else.
----
Angel's already got his rifle out before anyone starts shooting, scanning the area as best he can. The two brief cracks of a rifle from Garrett and Ngawai don't raise much alarm - two shots and no follow-up means they're not in danger - but the shouting and gunfire over by FTE and Hale is far more interesting. He repositions and sights in, his scope adjusting zoom automatically while the crosshair jogs slightly to the right - Hm, must be a crosswind - and sees three men, two down on their knees and bleeding, the other on the ground. The one on the ground fires a shot that ricochets off of nothing at all, which must be either FTE or Hale. Easy job.
(Angel shoot: 2d12+1d10 vs. 1d10 = 10, 2, dead)
The rifle's recoil system and Angel's bracing absorbs the shot almost perfectly, leaving him plenty of time to see the bullet impact the supine shooter right under the chin and blow the top of his skull and all its contents all over the road. Both Angel and Zaef hear shouts from the street below after the shot - they're about to have a lot of company.
----
Wazir wakes up with a start to see one of his sons shaking his shoulder. This is rare enough as it is, but then he hears the crack of a rifle somewhere nearby.
"'Father, someone is shooting at our people!'" he says. "'They say they are fighting ghosts, that the shots come from nowhere.'"
Wazir nods. "'The abominations have come for us. Hand out the new weapons. We make our stand now.'"
FTE sputters an incongruous laugh at seeing the man's head explode. "Fuck swords, dude." His arm gives a soft whir as the accelerator primes. "Now we can just shoot you fuckers."
Zaef figures the best way to discourage people from climbing up the stairs to assault Angel would be to blow them the hell up. He waits by the nearest staircase to Angel, grenade in hand, waiting for the telltale sounds of approaching mooks.
There will be others, from other staircases. But they'll be further from Angel, and he can use the concealment to hunt them and psyche them out.
Luis pauses for a moment, admiring the practiced elegance of the move--beyond his own sword skills--and then shakes it off as Arketta draws him back to the moment. "Right behind you."
(Garrett Shoot: 1d8 v. 1d6 = 6 v. 2, dead)
(Ngawai Shoot: 2d10 v. 1d6 = 8 v. 3, dead)
Garrett and Ngawai both take aim and fire at the remaining two machine gunners, both of them striking their marks - Garrett in the chest, Ngawai in the head, both targets hitting the ground and not getting back up. Shouts in the nearby buildings might be civilians reacting to the gunfire outside their windows, or reinforcements on the way.
(Bad Guys Shoot: 2d6 v. 1d12 x2 = 5 v. 3, 4 v. 3)
(Bad Guys Damage: 2d8 v. 1d8, 1d3 DR = 7 v. 2, 3 DR, Garrett: 6/8 Wound, 14/18 Shock / 5 v. 5, 3 DR: 14/16 Shock)
Wazir must train his men well, because while husband and wife might be invisible, their muzzle flashes are not. Both militiamen fire right back at where the bright flashes were, and both of them hit the mark. Ngawai just feels a sudden punch in the head as the rifle round skips off her helm, but Garrett shouts in pain as the round hits his shoulder and shatters, but the seam funnels shrapnel through the armor and into his chest.
"Fuck!" Garrett curses. "I'm hit!"
Ngawai's legs want to carry her across the road, weapons fire be damned, but she steadies herself. "Are you -"
"I'll be fine, it's not bad," Garrett says, feeling the armor and skinsuit press against the wound to stop the bleeding. "Just...give me a moment."
Ngawai shuffles over a couple feet and braces her rifle again, taking aim. "Not a problem," she hisses in rage.
----
(Arketta Sneak: 2d8 v. 1d4 = 3 v. 4)
Arketta leads the way forward, pausing at an aisle left between two shipping containers. She silently gives herself a three-count, then hustles out - just as the watcher in the tower turns his flashlight beam her way. Luis can see the armor try and fail to react in time to the sudden change in brightness, and he doesn't have the be fluent in Pashtun to understand what happens next.
"'Alarm! Sound the alarm! Alien attackers in the storage yard!'" the lookout shouts as Arketta dashes for cover. Luis peeks out just enough to see him pointing their way, and then a burst of rifle fire rakes the lane between Arketta and Luis. Luis braces to make the dash himself, but then he hears a bellow rapidly approaching from behind him.
(Luis Initiative: 1d8 vs. 1d6 = 5 v. 5)
(Luis Fight: 2d8 v. 1d6 = 6 v. 4)
(Luis Damage: 2d8 v. 1d6 = 6 v. 2, dead)
Luis whirls around, sword held flat and pointed straight ahead with his off-hand ready to defend against a blow, and does so just in time to grab the knife hand of the attacker charging forward. He twists it to the side, and then drives his sword straight into his attacker's heart. The man looks stunned - either he didn't expect Luis to hit first, or he never even saw him at all. Either way, all the man manages to do is gurgle and cough a bit of blood on Luis' helm before he goes slack and slides off the sword.
(Arketta Initiative: 1d8 v. 1d6 v. 1d6 = 6 v. 4 v. 2)
(Arketta Fight: 1d12 v. 1d6 x2 = 7 v. 5, 6 v. 2, 1 dead)
(Arketta Damage: 2d8 v. 1d6 = 7 v. 2, dead)
Drawn by the sound of gunfire, two more men with AKs charge at Arketta, bellowing. However, their loud war cries are all the warning she needs about their approach. Pressing herself flat against the container, sword held vertically in front of her, she lets the first man rush past her before stepping out in between them and, sword pivoting in her hands, delivers a swift blow to the second one's neck. His own moment carries him halfway down the sword's length before Arketta finishes his decapitation by ripping the sword out through the side with a grunt. The first and now only attacker notices that his friend has gone very silent, and spins around just in time for Arketta to rush towards him. She sweeps her off hand underneath his shooting hand and up behind his neck, the hold and her height not only lifting the rifle but the man himself off his feet as she stands back up before she drives her sword into the man's chest through his armpit, severing two of the four major arteries in one blow. She doesn't have to wait for him to bleed out before she knows he's dead, and drops the corpse to the ground at her feet.
More shouts from the stacks around you both sound out. "I think now would be a good time to start making things explode," Arketta hisses.
(Hale Shoot x2: 1d10+1d8 vs. 1d4 = 5 vs. 3 / 5 vs. 1, dead)
(FTE Shoot: Not gonna bother, he's toast)
Hale points his pistol at the supine man he'd already shot once and delivers the coup-de-gras. He turns to the kneeling man leaking out of the hole FTE's blade put in his shoulder to do the same, but just ends up putting a bullet in a dead man as FTE's accelerator takes the top of his head off.
"Thought part of the point was to use Narsai'i weapons," Hale says as he checks the magazine in his pistol.
The shouts of alarm inside the building that the gunfire and excitement were covering up suddenly become audible, as multiple sets of feet can be heard stomping down the steps towards you. It might be better to wait outside for them - as long as no one else shows up to the party to turn your ambush around.
----
(Zaef Throw: 2d10+1d8 vs. 1d6 = 7 vs. 5)
(Zaef Damage: 2d10 vs. 1d6x4 = 10 v. 2, 4, 2, 6, all dead)
This isn't the first or even the tenth time Zaef has had to deal with a bunch of targets coming out of holes in the floor - this scenario was practically an entire genre of Arena event unto itself. He takes a breath and listens for a moment, and hears...the footsteps going to a different staircase than the one he's at. By the time Zaef clears the corner to get eyes on, the door is already opening. Fortunately, Zaef already had the grenade in his hand, pin out. He lifts his fingers and the spoon pops off, and a second later heaves the grenade through the air. It sails right over the heads of the men in the stairwell and detonates - the blast splattering the first two men all over the plastered roof before collapsing the whole stairwell on the remains of whoever else was in there.
FTE doesn't reply, but pauses long enough to scoop up the AK that shot him - that one worked. "Do I look like dichotomy personified, or does this rifle just make me look fat?"
Luis looks around, not looking the source of the shouts but cataloging the crates he's been carefully highlighting in his HUD as they've worked their way into the stacks. He turns to the crate next to them and nods as a quick simulation checks his gut instinct.
"I agree, I think this is exactly the time to make things start exploding," he says, pulling out a couple grenades. "Give me a hand with this lid, and then in a few minutes we're going to need to be out of here and behind something solid in a hurry."
Ngawai came here tonight looking for blood. These bastards had threatened her daughter, threatened her husband, threatened her. And in her mind, you threaten to kill any of those - especially the first two - then you'd better invest in either a lot of weapons or a life insurance policy. And now that they had put a hole in Garrett? She's done.
Vision red, Ngawai stands up, rifle steady and pulls the trigger once - bullet goes straight through the man's head - and another - hole through the chest. The man falls and lays still, not dead, but hoping that whatever the ghosts that are shooting at them are pass him by. Ngawai stomps over to the bodies of the fallen militia, and looks them over; missing heads, eyes open and unmoving, they all look very dead.
That is, until the last man groans ever so slightly. Ngawai steps over him, and he can instantly see that his ruse is blown.
"'Please, mercy!'" he cries, not that the woman behind the impassive chrome helm understands him. "'I will leave you alone, I will run away, just let me -'"
Ngawai's answer is a long burst of automatic fire, the impact of a dozen rounds tearing the man's torso, arms and head to ribbons. She glares at the body for a moment longer before running back to Garrett.
She takes a knee next to him. "Can you move?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Garrett says.
"Do you need a kauka?" Ngawai continues, unhooking the ring from her belt.
"I'm fine, lahna," Garrett says. "Suit sealed it up, I'm feeling fine."
Ngawai's helm stares at Garrett's for a moment longer. "Are you -"
"Yes," Garrett says, reaching up and giving her shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sure."
Ngawai holds the gaze a moment longer before standing up. "Then get your ass up, we've got more assholes to kill."
Garrett stands up - with a momentary hitch where he braces himself on his rifle. "Lead the way."
----
(Luis Tech to cause boom: 2d10+1d8 vs. 1d6 = 10 v. 3 - BIG boom)
Luis knows explosives well enough to know that whatever janky-ass storage system Wazir's little insurgent shopping mall is using, it's not protected against sympathetic detonations - right here is a crate of Semtex from some Russian construction firm, stored next to boxes of RPG-7 rounds, across the way from crates of grenades from who knows where. That should be enough boom to cause some problems, so Luis plucks a brick of Semtex out of the crate, tears it in half, jams grenade detonators in both halves, and - after getting enough space - underhand tosses one into the Semtex crate and another at the pile of grenades.
Just as the second wad of Semtex leaves his hand, he sees that they're not grenades at all - it's hard to read old Cyrillic model numbers in the dark, after all. Instead, they're a few pallets of rounds for the RPG-7 - thermobaric rounds.
Luis's eyes go wide. "Oh, shit! Go NOW!"
(Arketta Run: 2d8 v. 1d8 = 2 v. 5)
(Luis Drag: 2d8 v. 1d8 = 8 v.
Arketta turns and makes a break for it - but doesn't see a rock buried in the dirt in the dark and trips, falling headlong forward. Luis doesn't hesitate - he grabs the back of her armor and drags her. Arketta does her best, but she still outweighs him by forty pounds, and it's only with her help scrambling on her hands and knees that they get close to the gate leading into the bazaar itself. Luis heaves with all his might and manages to throw Arketta the last couple feet to the gate before -
(Luis Damage: 2d8 v. 2d8 = 7 v 4-1 DR)
Before two small blasts turn immediately into one enormous one. Luis doesn't have time to process anything before his internal vox deactivates his hearing and the blast wave lifts him up and throws him through the air. All he knows is he lands and rolls, and when he stops sliding, he still has all his fingers and toes and his carapace and internal vox both tell him he doesn't have any new holes. Neither one tells him about the splitting headache he now has, but it's better than it could have been.
"Luis!" Arketta shouts in fear, jumping up and running towards him.
Hale looks at the weapons in their hands, and at the door. "I think maybe we let them come out first," he says. "And then..."
FTE nods. “And then we’ll make sassy one-liners over their corpses as we drop these empty rifles like badasses.”
(FTE Sneak: 1d8 v. 1d4 = 4 v. 1)
(Hale Sneak: 1d10 v. 1d4 = 6 v. 2)
Having learned their lessons from last time, when Hale and FTE reengage their camouflage, they stay out of the line of sight of flashlights and floodlights. Subsequently, when eight militia charged out the door, rifles and flashlights in hand, none of them even have a chance to see either one before it's way too late.
(FTE Full Auto: 2d10+1d8 v. 1d4x4 = 4 v. 2, 3, 1, 2)
(Hale Full Auto: 2d10+2d8 v. 1d4x4 = 9 v. 1, 1, 2, 2)
Both Hale and FTE rotate out of cover at the same moment and let loose. Hale has his rifle on his cheek in a perfectly braced shooting position, sliding from target to target, while FTE opts to just one-hand the rifle and hose the group down. Either way, between the two of them there's more than enough bullets for everyone, and once the smoke clears, none of their targets are moving anymore.
"Heinz! America's favorite ketchup!" FTE drops its smoking AK like a mic and turns to Hale. "Okay, now you try one." It surreptitiously grabs a fresh rifle while it ponders what with all the stink about using Narsai bullets.
"They're smoked," Hale says, then picks up a rifle of his own. He pulls the action back to load a round, and the whole rifle snaps in half - one of the rounds having punched a hole clean through the action. "Guess they weren't the only ones to fall to pieces."
----
"Heads up!" Angel calls, and pivots towards an stairway further down the rooftops. Zaef might not be able to see it, but Angel's glasses picked up the infrared signature of two human bodies clearing the stairwell.
Zaef moves into position to confront them, but then a door mere feet away kicks open and two other men press out, guns pointed straight at Zaef.
(Zaef Fight x2: 1d10+1d8 v. 1d6x2 = 7 v. 4, 5 v. 2)
(Angel Shoot x2: 1d12+1d10 v. 1d6x2 = 11 v. 5, 6 v. 5, 7 v. 2 damage)
Angel's rifle slides cleanly to his shoulder, sights already aligned and on target the moment cheek hits stock. A clean squeeze later and a 7.62mm round blasts the back of the man's skull off. Zaef, for his part, pivots on his heel and leaps into the air to dodge the burst of automatic fire sent his way. Spinning twice in midair, Zaef lands on his other foot and buries a blade up to the hilt in the skull of his first target. The other man tries to react by shoving his muzzle into Zaef's stomach to make damn sure he can't dodge away, but it does him little good when Zaef's off-hand carries a blade across and through his throat. Angel's second shot sails straight through the last man's chest, dropping him to the roof, dead.
At that moment, a titanic blast rips through the area, knocking both Angel and Zaef off their feet.
"What the fuck was that?" Ngawai shouts over the vox.
Arketta's shout is about all Luis can hear over the ringing in his ears and the stabbing pain in his head. It takes a few moments of careful inventory via nerves and the suit's data to realize that's the only pain he's feeling that's critical though. Limbs intact, no major bleeding...and I need to focus, he thinks. He coughs partly be reflex and looks around to find Arketta, managing a nod as he gingerly picks himself up onto his hands and knees. "Arketta! Are you okay?"
Arketta crouch-runs over to Luis and looks his carapace over. "Are you all right?"
Luis nods forcefully. "Yeah, yes, I'm fine. I'll be up in a moment. That was...god, who stores stuff like that?" He pulls himself into a crouch. "Any hostiles still left?"
Arketta shakes her head. "Not that I saw, but it won't stay that way."
Luis nods. "Yeah, somebody will be coming to see about that."
At that moment, his vox chimes. "What the fuck was that?" Ngawai shouts over the vox.
"That was the bad guys being even worse at storing explosives than I thought they could be," Luis says. "I think we pretty much ripped up their entire storage area, but anyone left is probably headed our way."
skullandscythe
